


Full Disclosure Not Required (but Appreciated)

by Potrix



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bottom Tony Stark, Break Up, Developing Relationship, Eventual Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, Feels, Fluff, Getting Back Together, Getting Together, Hurt, Identity Porn, Insecure Tony Stark, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Misunderstandings, Secrets, Top Steve Rogers, Young Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-22
Updated: 2015-11-02
Packaged: 2018-04-10 17:16:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4400465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Potrix/pseuds/Potrix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Steve knows more than he lets on, Tony knows less than he pretends, Clint has a big mouth, Bucky is a little shit, and everyone learns why keeping secrets never ends well. </p><p>Almost never, anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter I - Steve

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kisariiem](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kisariiem/gifts).



> This is a commission for [Kisariiem](archiveofourown.org/users/Kisariiem), who wanted (a lot of awesome things); age difference with younger/inexperienced Tony, secret identities/identity porn, Steve settling into the 21st century, hurt Tony, bottom Tony, jealous/possessive Steve, sneaky/sassy Steve, and Rhodey & Pepper & Tony friendship with a dash of explicit content. 
> 
> Here’s to hoping I got all that *fingers crossed*

##### Chapter I - Steve

Steve wakes with a strangled sob, the icy wind still biting at his cheeks even as mountains and snow melt back into his bland but safe SHIELD issued apartment, Bucky’s terrified shout morphing into the shrill sound of Steve’s ringing phone.

Rubbing a trembling hand through his sweat-soaked hair, Steve closes his eyes again and allows himself a moment to slowly count back from ten, steadying his breathing and calming his rapidly beating heart before he answers the call.

_“It’s him again,”_ Natasha says without preamble, _“be ready for pick-up in five.”_

The line goes dead and Steve, after a quick glance at the blinking numbers on his alarm clock and the realisation that it has been less than three hours since he’d finally managed to fall asleep, groans but throws back the covers.

He’s suited up, shield strapped securely to his back, and scrolling through the Intel Natasha has sent to his tablet when the quinjet touches down on the roof next to him, engines roaring loudly. Jogging toward the opening hangar bay, Steve makes a mental note to buy a nice bouquet of apology flowers for his landlady. Again.

Clint mumbles a sleepy greeting as Steve sits down and buckles up opposite him, then goes back to checking his equipment and grumbling to himself about his interrupted beauty sleep and military people with their unnatural ability to be instantly awake and alert.

“You’ve been an agent for how long?” Steve asks, mouth twitching up into a teasing smile at the sight of his grumpy friend. “Shouldn’t you be used to this by now?”

Clint yawns and glares half-heartedly.

“I’d wager he isn’t the only one having trouble sleeping lately,” Natasha observes, materialising seemingly out of nowhere and arching a pointed eyebrow at Steve, who stares back at her faux placidly, refusing to let on just how much her sudden appearing act still startles him every time, even after months of working together. “You doing okay there, Captain?”

Steve squares his shoulders. “I’m fine,” he insists, stubbornly lifting his chin. “So, Iron Man. A lab facility in New Jersey this time?”

It’s a rather pathetic attempt at deflection, but after another long, intense squint in Steve’s direction, Natasha pulls up the jet’s holo display and several pictures of a still smoking building. “His usual modus operandi,” she starts, pointing at a group of scientists and guards, tied up a little distance away from the ruin but looking mostly unharmed. “The people were evacuated prior to the attack, no casualties, as far as we can tell. The complex has been burned to the ground, but one of the engineers claims Iron Man took part of their research with him.”

“Meaning we should probably expect another highly incriminating information dump soon,” Steve finishes through a sigh.

Natasha nods. “Precisely. The owner seems to know it, too. He’s at the scene trying to prevent our first responders from entering the premises.”

“Hammer’s an asshole,” Clint snorts and stretches, scratching at his stomach. “He’s been on SHIELD’s radar for ages, never could link him to any illegal activities, though. Maybe Iron Man’s had more luck than us.”

“Wait, Hammer? Justin Hammer?” Steve wants to know, pursing his lips when Natasha answers in the affirmative. “He’s one of the most outspoken Iron Man opposers, and Hammer Industries holds most of the current military contracts. Could this be Iron Man attempting to shut down Stark Industries’ main competitor?”

The idea of Iron Man straying, changing his ways to fight a private vendetta for his off-the-records-employer, sits uncomfortably with Steve. Officially speaking, Iron Man is on the villain index and to be brought into custody, with all the force necessary, but Steve and his team are reluctant to follow that standing order, even though they’re the ones most frequently facing the flashy vigilante.

And whenever they do cross paths, Steve has a hard time remembering that Iron Man is supposed to be one of the bad guys. Sure, Steve isn’t a fan of Iron Man’s methods and he doesn’t like the property damage he leaves behind, but that doesn’t change anything about the fact that Iron Man is helping, that he’s doing a lot of good.

Iron Man doesn’t kill and he doesn’t appear to have any other goal besides exposing people who are breaking the law and getting away with it. Steve can’t help but find that admirable.

The only difference between Iron Man and the many superheroes running around New York these days, hell, the only difference between Iron Man and Steve is the SHIELD sanctioning and support.

Which is, Steve suspects, exactly why SHIELD wants Iron Man captured; at the moment, he’s a loose cannon, but he has potential and Fury knows it. It’s less about getting Iron Man out of the way and more about gaining insight and control.

Yes, maybe Steve does have a slight authority problem, and yes, maybe he is naive to trust a man behind a mask he’s known for less than half a year, but Steve knows the government and the military, he knows how they operate, and if someone decides to donate their time to protecting the general public without wanting to expose themselves and be dragged into the politics and chaos going on behind the scenes? Well, Steve isn’t about to stop them. Not unless they become a real threat.

“It’s unlikely,” Natasha shakes Steve out of his musings, just as the pilot calls back, “Approaching destination, touchdown in two!”

“All right,” Steve says, automatically slipping into Captain mode and pulling down his cowl in the hope that it will hide the relief he knows must be written across his face, clear as day. “Let’s see what we’ve got.”

What they have turns out to be one severely ticked off CEO of Hammer Industries, whose gaze immediately zeroes in on Steve as he steps out of the jet, voice raised to be heard over the running motors.

“Captain Rogers!” Hammer calls as he sprints toward them, flapping his arms in the general direction of where the SHIELD agents are busy systematically combing through the remains of his lab complex. “This is outrageous, your people have forcefully entered my property without permission, this is-“

A camera flashes somewhere behind them and Hammer’s demeanour instantly changes, the sneer falling right off his face to be replaced by a falsely polite smile as he reaches for Steve’s hand with both of his, shaking it vigorously.

Lips pursed, Steve extricates his hand and crosses his arms over his chest, just to make sure. “Mister Hammer,” he acknowledges coolly, “what seems to be the issue?”

“The issue?” Hammer shrieks, making Steve wince. “The issue is that I have unauthorised personnel snooping through my high security facility without so much as a warrant or even an explanation!”

Clint coughs out something that sounds suspiciously like, “Why so nervous?” and then yelps, probably due to the elbow Steve is relatively sure Natasha has just jabbed into his side in warning.

“SHIELD is here to investigate the possible involvement of a known villain and possible superhuman in tonight’s break-in and destruction of your facility,” Steve explains calmly. “Our first priority is to gather information about our target.”

As if on cue, Steve’s phone and those of everyone else in the close vicinity start beeping with incoming messages. The link in the text leads to a website and seeing the tiny, dancing and somehow, despite his mask, smug-looking Iron Man in the top left corner is enough for Steve to know that whatever the downloadable files contain, it can’t be good for Hammer.

A second text arrives a moment later, this one only intended for Steve, if the fact that he’s, apparently, the only one receiving it is anything to go by.

**‘Too slow, hot stuff. Hope you like my present! XOXO’**

Steve only realises he’s smiling down at his phone when Natasha clears her throat, and quickly stuffs it back into his pocket, blinking at her with all the innocence he can muster through the blush he can feel creeping up his neck.

Natasha merely rolls her eyes in response. “If you’re done flirting, we still have a job to do.”

There’s more than enough evidence in the published documents to arrest Hammer as well as several of his board members and lead scientists.

The team debriefs with Fury, and Steve, once again, hands over his cell phone to SHIELD’s IT department, the specialist taking it from him already looking resigned to not finding anything that could be traced back to Iron Man.

No matter what SHIELD comes up with, Iron Man is always at least one step ahead.

The sky is just beginning to turn pink when Natasha drops Steve off in front of his apartment building. Steve already has the door open, one foot outside on the sidewalk, when he turns back to her to clarify, “I wasn’t flirting.”

Natasha tilts her head but doesn’t say anything, waiting for Steve to get uncomfortable and step out of the car. He’s pushing open the front door when he hears her call, “Keep telling yourself that, hot stuff!” before speeding off.

“I have terrible taste in friends,” Steve informs his neighbour’s cat, giving her head a scratch as walks by her on his way upstairs.

Princess flicks her tail at him, utterly unimpressed.


	2. Chapter II - Tony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony's favourite hobby is playing around in SHIELD's systems and reading up on things he isn't supposed to know. Oh, and the government sucks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve thought long and hard about where and when to insert Tony into _The Avengers_ plotline, but I think what I decided on in the end works and makes sense. He’s there for the ‘Magic Staff Confrontation’ (sort of) and everything that happens after.
> 
> I’m seriously tempted to write a tiny little one shot about how a seriously unimpressed Steve and not-so-secretly amused Natasha apprehended Loki in Stuttgart and dealt with Thor barging in during the flight back to the Helicarrier without Tony there, but. But there’s so much else to do, so we’ll see about that.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy chapter two and as always, let me know what you think about it!

##### Chapter II - Tony

“A little warning that you’re about to send the entire US military into complete disarray would have been nice, you know,” is what Rhodey opens with as he barges into the workshop.

Tony startles and pulls at the stitches above his brow, nearly dropping the needle in his haste to whirl around and prevent Rhodey from seeing the current state of his face.

Rhodey’s sharp intake of breath tells Tony that he’s shit out of luck on that front.

“You’re hurt,” Rhodey sighs, his tone caught somewhere between genuine concern, anger and resignation. It’s almost reassuringly familiar to hear. “Of course you’re hurt. Damn it, Tones, c’mere, let me have a look at that.”

“I’m fine,” Tony mutters but allows himself to be manhandled into a chair, scowling even though he knows it’s useless as Rhodey hooks a finger under his chin and tilts his head back to inspect the cut.

He doesn’t protest when Rhodey orders him to stay and goes to wash his hands and retrieve a pair of gloves from the first aid kit, too tired from the attack on the Hammer Industries facility to do anything but surrender to Rhodey’s fussing and fretting.

When JARVIS announces Pepper’s arrival, however, Tony lets out a groan and points at the closest of the AI’s cameras, grumbling an accusing, “Traitor.”

“Don’t,” Pepper snaps tightly, lips pursed and voice trembling. “Not another word out of you.”

“Pep-“ Tony tries nonetheless, but cuts himself off when Pepper levels him with a pointed, warning glare.

Rhodey wisely steps out of her way, not bothering to hide his grin when Pepper pulls Tony in against her chest, flicking Tony’s ear none too gently before sliding one hand into his hair, stroking softly.

“You stupid, stupid boy,” she chides, clucking disapprovingly at him, fingers fluttering probingly over the now sewn up wound. “I really don’t need a heart attack before turning forty, you know.”

“While I see your point,” Tony starts and pokes his tongue out at Rhodey, making the smirk fall right off Rhodey’s face, “I would like to point out that it was my AI that so helpfully informed you about my condition, and not your loving husband. Just a reminder.”

“Throw me under the bus, why don’t you,” Rhodey grumbles, but opens his arms for Pepper and kisses her cheek in greeting. “And I would have called you eventually, honey, but I figured stopping the idiot over there from bleeding all over himself took priority.”

Tony, using Pepper and Rhodey’s moment of distraction, slides out from between them and hobbles over to his workstation, bringing up a holo screen to check on the progress of SHIELD’s latest hacking attempts. Which are laughable, as usual, nowhere even close to cracking Tony’s firewalls or getting behind the secret of Iron Man.

He’s playing with fire, Tony’s well aware of that, but how many people actually get the chance to meet their childhood idols-slash-crushes in real life? Besides, texting with Captain America and having SHIELD trying their pathetic best to trace Tony’s messages back to Iron Man is a precaution, it helps Tony stay on top of their digital back and forth and would immediately let him know should SHIELD ever manage to find him out.

Or, at least, that’s how Tony justifies his flirting with Steve Rogers to himself.

Rhodey calls it teenage infatuation and recklessness, mixed with a dash of Stark arrogance, but if Tony were inclined to listen to Rhodey, there would be no Iron Man, for starters, and Obie would still be-

_Well._

Anyway. Rhodey knows less than Jon Snow, that’s Tony’s point.

“Come on, man,” Rhodey breaks Tony out of his musings, clapping a hand on Tony’s shoulder to pull him into a loose, one-armed hug. “Let’s get some food into you.”

“Bed after,” Pepper insists sternly, coming up on Tony’s other side and linking her arm through Tony’s, guiding them all toward the elevator.

Tony huffs and rolls his eyes, a token protest more than anything. “I’m okay, guys, it’s really not that bad.”

“Indulge us,” Pepper says, leaning down to brush a kiss over Tony’s temple. “We were worried.”

Squeezing Tony’s shoulders, eyebrows raised imploringly, Rhodey adds, “And, maybe, try not to get yourself killed for the next couple of days, huh?”

It’s that sentence Tony remembers and uses to blame Rhodey, the jinxing asshole, when he’s jerking awake a mere four hours after breakfast with Rhodey and Pepper, blinking at the information JARVIS is already displaying on the screen on his bedroom wall.

“Gah?” Tony grunts, the picture of eloquence, squinting his bleary eyes in an attempt to bring the videos and text into focus. “What? ‘S going on?”

_“Your SHIELD activity alerts, Sir,”_ JARVIS informs him efficiently, bringing up images of Cap and Widow fighting and, in the end, arresting what looks like a guy who got lost on his way to a Renaissance fair. _“Loki, brother of Thor-“_

“The crazy guy from New Mexico who turned out to be not so crazy and an actual alien, demi-God, prince person?”

_“The very same, Sir. Two days ago, Loki has brought one of the items on your watch list into his possession. Captain Rogers and Agent Romanov have successfully apprehended Loki in Stuttgart less than an hour ago, and are currently back on their way to the Helicarrier. The stolen item does not seem to be in Loki’s possession anymore, however.”_

Tony sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “SHIELD, seriously. Okay, give it to me. What did they manage to lose?”

_“The Tesseract, Sir.”_

And once again, the late great Howard Stark shows his talent of screwing with Tony’s life, even from beyond the grave. Tony’s trying his hardest to retrieve all Stark weaponry and make sure nothing new is produced, but that job is made significantly harder by the fact that a lot of Howard’s potentially more volatile experiments and components have gone to SHIELD after his death - that glowing cube of major creepiness included.

Tony has seen it exactly once, years ago on one of the rare occasions Howard had taken him along to work and Tony had snuck away during a boring meeting to go explore the labs, and one little glimpse has been more than enough to tell him that the Tesseract should’ve stayed on the bottom of the ocean, for the good of everyone.

There’s nothing for it now, though.

“Okay, JARVIS my love, let’s get to work!”

Getting into the SHIELD mainframe to see what the moron squad is up to is almost insultingly easy, but at least Tony gets to message with the scientist in charge - _the_ Doctor Bruce Banner, Tony might have peed himself a little discovering that delicious titbit of information - and is able to convince him to let Tony help with the search for the Tesseract.

There’s some tension when Cap arrives to catch Bruce - Tony’s just going to assume Bruce is okay with Tony calling him Bruce - chatting with an outsider and then, after finding the stash of Tesseract weapons Tony suspected SHIELD had stored away somewhere, comes back to confront Fury about it.

Things escalate pretty quickly from there, pun totally intended, and Tony’s in the suit and in the air, headed for the harbour, before Bruce has even finished transforming into Big Green.

_“One of the engines is dead,”_ Steve informs Tony, right after yelling at him for hijacking the comms. _“Anything you can do about that?”_

Coming in close to the Helicarrier, the HUD confirms that engine three is out of commission, and as soon as Tony flies by the damaged area, he can see why.

“I gotta get this super conducting cooling system back online before I can access the rotors and work on dislodging the debris,” he tells Cap, pulling ineffectively at some of the larger junks of metal. “I need you to get to that engine control panel and tell me which relays are in overload position.” When Cap doesn’t answer, he adds, “What's it look like in there?”

An embarrassed pause, then Cap says, _“It seems to run on some form of electricity.”_

Tony very nearly brains himself on a rotor blade because Christ, Mister Peak of Human Perfection has an adorable sense of humour.

“Well,” Tony grins, “you’re not wrong.”

After that, everything’s a little bit of a blur which, admittedly, might have something to do with Tony getting thrown around a giant turbine for a while there. But the Helicarrier doesn’t fall and no one tackles and cuffs Tony when Cap invites him to join them for further strategy planning, which is kind of nice.

Everyone’s informed about Coulson, and damn it, Tony had actually liked the guy and the dryly sarcastic notes he’d always left in the system for Tony to find during his snooping, and Tony comes to the realisation that he’s not the only player on the field with a massive ego.

The Avengers, plus a returned Hulk, and Iron Man fall into step surprisingly quickly, working together almost smoothly after months spent watching and analysing the other during their own confrontations, and make moderately good progress on limiting collateral damage and reducing the number of uglies pouring out of the hole in the sky.

The nuke kind of throws off their groove.

_“Iron Man,”_ Cap is saying, and the genuine concern shining through would probably make Tony's insides go warm and fuzzy if the situation were somewhat less dire, _“you know that’s a one-way trip?”_

Tony doesn’t answer, concentrating on the ringing in his ear as he waits for the call to Pepper to go through. Then he’s flying through the portal and communications cut out, all that’s left the armada of ships in front of him, and Tony still clutching the missile.

The last thing Tony sees before everything goes dark is the bomb hitting its target.


	3. Chapter III - Steve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Avengers are awesome. Protective (mother hen) Steve is protective.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m kind of proud of myself for keeping to my schedule here *high fives herself*

##### Chapter III - Steve

Steve’s knees hit the dirty ground next to Iron Man’s limp, unresponsive body, hands fluttering uselessly over the device in Iron Man’s chest, reluctant to touch anything for fear of making the situation worse or hurting the clearly injured man further.

The Hulk roars, a sound of angry confusion, but Iron Man doesn’t so much as twitch.

Worrying his bottom lip, Steve takes a moment to consider his options, then nods decisively to himself, gesturing for Hulk and Thor to flank him and Iron Man on either side and provide some cover. “Got to get him out of the suit,” he starts, feeling his way along Iron Man’s helmet, trying to find the release mechanism. Shooting a pointed, warning glare at Nat and Clint, he adds, “If learning Iron Man’s true identity and keeping quiet about it goes against your loyalty to SHIELD, I suggest you go take a walk.”

“Hey,” Clint shrugs, “the guy just saved all our asses and prevented the city from being nuked to shit. We owe him at least one, as far as I’m concerned.”

Natasha doesn’t say anything, but when Steve catches her eye she tilts her head in acquiescence, making a show of removing and shutting off her earpiece, the others quick to follow.

Giving a small smile of thanks, Steve turns his attention back to Iron Man, wincing apologetically when he comes to the conclusion that the only way to open the shut down suit is with brute strength. He takes a good hold of the gold mask, his other hand braced against Iron Man’s shoulder, and pulls, revealing-

“Stark,” Natasha whispers, as taken aback as Steve has ever heard her, joining Steve at Iron Man’s side and leaning in close, two fingers against the pulse in Iron Man’s neck and her ear over his slack mouth. “He’s breathing, but barely.”

Before Steve can give the order, Nat’s already administering mouth-to-mouth and Clint has begun tugging at Iron Man’s boots, so Steve focuses on Iron Man’s arms and torso, while Thor and Hulk keep shielding them from curious bystanders.

After no more than a few seconds, Iron Man starts coughing but still doesn’t wake, his unconscious face scrunched up in pain when Natasha eventually pulls back.

“He needs a hospital,” she says, nimble fingers making short work of Iron Man’s left gauntlet. “Sooner rather than later. And,” she continues, gaze moving over the now flickering circle in Iron Man’s chest, “I don’t think a civilian facility is going to cut it.”

Steve sighs but knows she’s right, finally managing to pull free the big plate covering Iron Man’s chest. “We remove the rest of the armour and send it on its way back to Stark Industries first. Iron Man’s involvement with SI is public knowledge, with a bit of luck they’ll assume a random passerby came upon it and was decent enough to return it without demanding a reward,” he instructs, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. Damn it, involving Fury and his constant scheming is exactly what he’d hoped to avoid here. “Then we call in the cavalry.”

Together, they make fast progress and once Iron Man is freed, Natasha and Thor gather up all of the suit’s pieces, hiding them away in Thor’s cape. “We’ll make sure this doesn’t fall in the wrong hands,” she reassures and stands, brushing off her dusty suit.

“Aye,” Thor agrees gravely, clapping Steve’s back as he swings the impromptu sack over his shoulder. “The Man of Iron is an honourable warrior. We will not allow what belongs to him to come into another’s possession.”

“Take care of Stark,” Nat calls over the noise of the wind Thor is creating with his hammer, lips curled up into a faint, indulging smile when Thor offers her his free hand to help her step onto his boot. “We’ll meet you back at base.”

Steve makes sure to wait until they’re gone before he calls SHIELD.

By the time several of their private ambulances arrive, Hulk has turned back into Bruce and reset Clint’s broken nose, Steve all the while gently cradling Iron Man’s head in his lap.

Clint and Bruce hobble toward one of the cars to get checked over properly, but Steve insists on staying and riding with Iron Man. He doesn’t trust SHIELD not to squirrel him or some information that doesn’t belong to them away on the way to the hospital.

He isn’t surprised in the least to see Fury waiting for them when he climbs into the ambulance after Iron Man’s gurney.

“Captain,” Fury acknowledges, unreadable as ever, “let’s talk.”

***

The room’s lights are dimmed, the only sound the whirring and beeping of the machines and the occasional rustling of paper whenever Steve turns a page in his book, Iron Man, _Tony Stark_ lying eerily still and unmoving in the bed next to Steve’s chair.

Steve has refused to leave Tony’s side unless absolutely necessary since arriving at the SHIELD clinic, standing guard over the sleeping man even after Tony’s friends and security detail arrived.

Miss Potts and Colonel Rhodes are currently engaged in discussion with Fury, about what Steve isn’t entirely sure. And he finds that he doesn’t care all that much either, preoccupied as he is with watching over Tony.

Anthony Edward Stark, son of Gregory Stark, grandson of Howard Stark and raised by his grandfather after his parents’ unfortunate death, a car accident, shortly after his first birthday.

Steve had received files on all his friends and colleagues after first waking up in the future, not up to reading any further than the big red _deceased_ stamp for most of them. There is Peggy still, and Steve goes to visit as often as his busy schedule allows, but the uncertainty if she is going to recognise him, to even know what day it is, is hard to stomach.

Not that that keeps Steve from going, although seeing the once sharp, observant woman, his friend and confidant, wither away is difficult, but she is the only connection to his past that still exists.

Well. Her and Tony.

Steve had considered it, during the first few weeks, thought a lot about contacting Tony, but to what end? To Tony, Steve is a stranger, a comic book character and a picture out of his history books, and so Steve had eventually decided to leave Tony be and let what’s already gone rest in peace.

Which doesn’t mean that Steve isn’t feeling oddly protective of him. Maybe it’s for Howard’s sake, maybe it’s months of bantering and playing chase with Iron Man, Steve doesn’t know.

Part of it, of course, is that Tony is still so young, a fact brought into even sharper relief by the just slightly too big hospital gown sliding off one of Tony’s slender shoulders, the huge, fluffy pillow and blanket making Tony look smaller and the needles in his body making him appear more fragile than he actually is.

No, Tony is brave and incredibly strong, and Steve will do everything in his power to keep him safe, safe from whatever he might have to face as Iron Man as well as Fury and SHIELD.

Swallowing hard around the lump of guilt in his throat, Steve sets down the book and carefully takes one of Tony’s hands instead, thumb stroking slowly over Tony’s bruised knuckles.

Fury’s orders, given to Steve in the back of an ambulance and completely dismissing all of Steve’s concerns, are clear; get the Iron Man armour, with or without Tony. Steve had protested, outraged by but helpless against Fury’s threats of exposing Iron Man should Tony remain stubborn about cooperating.

He can’t tell if Fury would truly go through with it, but Steve isn’t willing to take the chance and throw Tony to the wolves like that.

Besides, Steve figures, having to stay close to Tony doesn’t sound all that bad and if worst comes to worst, Steve has never thought twice about going against a superior officer if his heart told him it’s the right thing to do.

He doesn’t have to go actively digging for Tony’s secrets and deliver them back to SHIELD, he can simply enjoy getting paid for getting to know the only remaining family of one of his oldest friends. And if there’s nothing to report come the end of his mission, well, that really isn’t Steve’s problem, is it?

Sure, the idea of not being allowed to tell Tony that he knows about Iron Man without committing treason against his employer sits uncomfortably with Steve, but then again, Steve isn’t known for making life easy for himself or quitting when things get a little complicated.

He’s stormed a Nazi base wearing booty shorts and a bright white star on his chest, with nothing but a flimsy prop shield as protection, for God’s sake!

A low, hoarse moan snaps Steve out of his musings and back to the present, a pair of bleary brown eyes greeting him when he looks back over at the bed. 

Gingerly squeezing Tony’s hand, mindful of the IV drip attached to it, Steve smiles and scoots his chair a little closer, reaching out to brush some of the mussed, sweaty hair away from Tony’s face, whispering a quiet, “Welcome back.”

Tony blinks at him, down at their linked hands, then up at Steve again, mouth opening and closing uselessly a couple of times before he manages to croak, “This is a nice dream,” and promptly drifts off again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone, brace yourselves for the ridiculousness that is identity porn to really start in the next chapter! Will it be believable or realistic in any way? Not all. Will it be worse and sillier than the comic canon? Nope! (Is that even possible?)


	4. Chapter IV - Tony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony has some medicated fun, Pepper handles things like a pro, and Steve loses all of his M&Ms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for posting this a day late. Those of you who follow me on tumblr might have seen that I took an accidental 6-hour-nap yesterday evening and didn’t get around to editing this chapter before now. Sorry about that.

##### Chapter IV - Tony

“Welcome back,” someone whispers, and when Tony manages to focus enough to actually turn his head and look at who’s talking, there’s Captain America in all his muscly, square-jawed, blue-eyed glory, smiling his gorgeous smile down at Tony and carding gentle fingers through Tony’s embarrassingly dirty hair.

It’s a nice dream, which Tony is sure to let Imagination Steve know before sleep claims him once more.

***

“Your skin is so soft,” Tony slurs, mesmerized, trailing his hand from Steve’s wrist up to the inside of his elbow, then back down again.

Steve blushes at that, cheeks turning a lovely pink that Tony can’t help but touch, as well.

“So soft,” he hums happily, closing his eyes and just feeling.

Tony thinks he can hear Rhodey’s distinctive snickers, the snorting ones that always come out when Rhodey’s trying and failing not to laugh, but he’s too tired to check.

***

Pepper kisses his forehead, leaning in close and smoothing down the blanket over Tony’s chest.

“They don’t know,” she says, so quiet that Tony barely hears her even though she’s speaking right into his ear. “We told them you built the first Arc Reactor to keep your heart going, we had to give them at least some of the truth, they saw it and they are not stupid. We told them you decided to find a personal bodyguard after coming home, for obvious reasons, that you built the suit for him and outfitted it with a reactor as a power source. Half truths.”

“Half truths,” Tony agrees dazedly, twirling a strand of strawberry blonde hair around his finger.

“We told them your bodyguard hadn’t been available during the battle and that you, recklessly, put on the suit and fought yourself, with the help of the autopilot function and your bodyguard linked in via a private channel. Rhodey is out there now, in one of the older models, helping with the cleanup to keep up the illusion. They don’t know you’re Iron Man, Tony, they can’t prove anything they didn’t already know. Tony, do you understand?”

Tony nods. “Your hair smells nice. Like peaches.”

***

“I want Steve,” Tony whines, pouting up at the nurse changing his bandages. “Where’s Steve?”

“Right here, Tony,” Steve says and gives Tony’s hand a squeeze, taking a step closer into Tony’s field of vision. “I’m right here.”

Tony beams at him, sighing contentedly. “Good. That’s- that’s good. Don’t go anywhere. I like you here. I like you.”

A pause. Then, “I like you, too, Tony.”

***

The first time Tony wakes up without the fog of medication clouding his mind, he immediately wishes himself unconscious again because _shit_.

Forget the fact that he is, from the looks of it, in a SHIELD hospital, surrounded by SHIELD personnel, some of whom have to at least suspect what’s been going on because the excuses he can vaguely recall Pepper telling him about are flimsy at best.

Forget the dull throbbing in his head and the pain in his cast-enclosed arm, none of that matters nearly as much as the memory of being high and flirting with Steve Rogers, _the_ Steve Rogers, _Captain America_ himself.

“Shit,” Tony groans, bringing up a hand to rub at his crusted eyes, and winces at the way his unused voice scratches in his throat. “Shit.”

“Going by what I’ve heard about you from Colonel Rhodes,” comes an amused chuckle from somewhere on Tony’s right, “this probably means you’re back with us.”

Tony startles but, thankfully, doesn’t yelp of shriek, even if it’s a close call.

“Do you think you’ll be able to drink something?” Steve asks and then he’s right there, helping Tony up into a sitting position with a warm hand on Tony’s back, propping a pillow behind Tony before picking up a cup from the nightstand and bringing it to Tony’s lips. “Small sips, and slowly.” 

And for once in his life, Tony is not only rendered speechless but also obeys without question, too caught off guard to do anything else.

“What are you doing here?” he rasps when Steve moves back, grimacing at the unintentional rudeness of the question. He’s usually smoother than this, he’s totally blaming the drugs. “I mean, I don’t mind. That you’re here, with me. But. Why are you?”

Steve, to his credit, doesn’t seem offended at all. “My team found you in the rubble after the battle. We thought it best to bring you to a secure facility, and I-“ he falters, nervously licking his lips, which Tony does not find sexy at all. Nope, not in the slightest. “And I didn’t want you to wake up alone.”

“Pepper’s here,” Tony points out, frowning suspiciously. “And Rhodey. I think? So I wasn’t. Alone.”

“No, I guess not,” Steve allows, sitting back down in the chair that has been pulled up to Tony’s bed. He’s quiet for a long moment before continuing. “I don’t know if you’re aware, but I knew your grandfather, Howard, back during the war.”

Tony can’t help but laugh at that, a sound completely devoid of any humour or mirth. Figures, he thinks, resolutely pushing down the stab of hurt and disappointment. “So, what? You’re here out of some, some sort of obligation? Because you think you owe him or something? That you’re doing him a favour by checking up on me?” He turns his head away jerkily, waving a dismissive hand. “Well, don’t bother. We didn’t exactly get along, dear old gramps and me.”

“It’s not that, Tony,” Steve hastens to reassure, surprising Tony when he carefully takes Tony’s hand between both of his again. “I won’t lie and say that you don’t remind me of him, there definitely is a certain resemblance, but I know you’re not him and that you probably didn’t know him as the same man I knew him as. But he was a friend, back in my day, and that means something to me. I’d like to get to know you, too, Tony. If- if that’s all right with you?”

It’s a good thing Tony is as exhausted as he is, otherwise he’d probably pop a fanboy boner right about now, and that would just be awkward for everyone involved.

“Fine, okay,” he says instead, glad he’s still looking away from Steve so Steve can’t see the goofy grin on his face. “Yeah, that’s okay.”

“Great!” Steve blurts, then coughs and clears his throat to mask his eagerness like the adorable dork he’s turning out to be. “That’s real great, Tony.”

***

Pepper informs him that the suit Tony had used during the Battle of Manhattan, as the news have dubbed the final fight during Loki’s invasion, has somehow, miraculously, found its way back to Stark Tower.

She insists that some honest, decent people must have picked it up and sent it back, but Tony is highly sceptical since there are few honest, decent people left in the world.

So, for days after Pepper tells him the armour is where it’s supposed to be, Tony watches everyone coming and going very carefully. Not that it is of much use. Fury, when he comes by to offer his get-well wishes, is as disinterested and unreadable as ever, and it’s impossible to tell how much the staff knows or what their security levels are.

And then there’s Steve, of course, who comes by every single day, only ever leaving Tony’s side when either Pepper or Rhodey are there to stay with him, which is equal parts nice and confusing.

Steve, who’s as honest and decent as they get, and can’t lie for shit.

“You have absolutely no poker face whatsoever,” Tony tisks, gathering up a big portion of Steve’s M&Ms and adding them to his own pile. “It would almost be funny if it wasn’t so sad.”

“You’re counting cards,” Steve deadpans, without missing a beat.

Tony shrugs, hiding his grin behind his cards. “Fair enough,” he says, and pushes down the lingering sense of unease because if there’s anyone who’s trustworthy, anyone at all, it’s Captain America.

***

They play poker and scrabble and rummy, watch hours upon hours of mindless drivel on the tiny television up in the corner, and talk about everything and nothing at all. Time flies and before Tony knows it, almost two weeks have passed and he’s being discharged, free to go home and change out of the papery hospital gown and sleep on sheets that don’t scratch.

Which Tony is thrilled about right up until he realises going home means saying goodbye to Steve.

He’s in a terrible mood the day Pepper and Happy come to pick him up, not even Steve being the one to push the wheelchair the scary head nurse forced him into down to the lobby and helping him into the car enough to cheer Tony up.

Rhodey’s already back at base and Pepper is busy running the company, so Tony is left to sulk by himself down in the workshop for a good half week, grumbling at the bots and yelling at JARVIS when the AI bans him from using most of the machinery while his arm is still in a cast.

“You’re the worst, JARVIS,” Tony accuses sullenly, scowling and listlessly playing with some of the suit’s schematics. “I’m donating you to a fast food chain, see how you like it when all you do all day is read burger orders.”

_“That would be unfortunate, Sir,”_ JARVIS says, as usual entirely unimpressed by Tony’s threats, _“since that would prevent me from informing you that Captain Rogers is at the front desk asking for you.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be up on Thursday so that we have a little more than just a day between updates. After that, I’ll (hopefully) go back to my Wednesday/Sunday schedule. 
> 
> Also, I did warn you all about the absolute silliness of identity porn, yes?


	5. Chapter V - Steve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where everyone totally behaves like the mature adults they are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay, everyone. Real life has turned unexpectedly busy on me, and I’m still fighting that stupid, persistent, on again/off again summer cold, so my lazy ass hasn’t gotten around to writing and editing as much as I would’ve liked. 
> 
> I’ll only be posting new chapters every Sunday from now on. I’m sorry about that, but I think it’s easier and more comfortable for you if you know there will definitely be an update once a week instead of having to wonder whether there will be one, two, or none at all. 
> 
> Anyway, hope you all enjoy the new chapter!

##### Chapter V - Steve

“I should probably go,” Steve says eventually when the credits start rolling, surprised at how fast time has flown by and how reluctant he is to actually get up and leave. “It’s getting late.”

But Tony, sprawled out comfortably along the couch with his bare feet tucked under Steve’s thigh for warmth, just waves dismissively with a slice of the pizza he had insisted he didn’t need because he wasn’t hungry, and then promptly eaten three quarters of. Along with most of the cheesy bread. “Don’t be ridiculous, I’ve got guest suites.”

And so Steve spends the night, quizzing JARVIS about Tony’s favourite foods because making breakfast in the morning is the least he can do, feeling a little silly and being a lot amazed at the AI and all the work and ingenuity that must have gone into creating it.

Tony, Steve learns, is not a morning person. At all. He shuffles into the kitchen as Steve is flipping the last batch of pancakes, eggs and bacon already on the table under the fancy silver cloche to keep warm, yawning and making grabby hands in the general direction of the coffee maker until Steve goes and pours him a cup.

“Sleep well?” Steve asks, then has to glance away again quickly to hide his reddening cheeks when the first thing that comes to mind as he watches Tony’s owlish blinking and hears his incoherent mumbling is how adorable Tony looks like this, all soft and sleep-rumpled.

The thought comes completely out of left field, startling Steve and leaving him reeling for a long moment before he manages to compose and shake himself out of it, having to make a conscious effort to slow his wildly beating heart.

It was just that Tony caught him off-guard with his momentary cuteness, Steve tries to convince himself, ruthlessly stomping down on the excited, fluttery feeling in his stomach and ignoring the annoyingly insistent voice in the back of his head telling him that he has never been any good at lying, even to himself.

His thoughts automatically and very unwillingly turn to Arnie and Peggy at that, but those memories, at least, still sting enough for Steve to be able to finally focus all his attention back on serving their breakfast. He turns off the stove and goes to fetch some juice out of the fridge, bringing it and the pancakes back to the table where Tony has already collapsed in a chair and lifted the cloche, hungrily eyeing the food underneath.

“You cooked,” Tony observes quietly, his expression complicated but not unreadable enough for Steve not to notice the confused pleasure in it. “You didn’t have to.”

Steve shrugs, shooting an encouraging smile back at Tony. “It was no hardship,” he assures, then adds, teasingly, “Especially considering that you paid for all of the ingredients and it’s your kitchen that needs cleaning now.”

Tony snorts through his mouthful of bacon, but his shoulders lose some of their previous rigidness and the corners of his eyes crinkle in amusement. “I have people for that.”

They eat in companionable silence and, despite Tony’s grouching, load the dishwasher and wipe down the counters before relocating to Tony’s workshop to pick up where they had left off before dinner the previous night.

Over the next half week, they fall into a comfortable routine of Tony working on his various projects, either explaining what he’s doing or, when he requires some quiet time to think, leaving Steve to sketch on the couch by the window, having meals together and providing Steve with a solid pop culture education in the evenings.

Steve, after an incident involving a lot of smoke and coughing, takes it upon himself to show Tony how to prepare a few simple, homemade meals that aren’t toast or instant noodles. In return, Tony starts teaching Steve about all the technological novelties and inventions he deems important, as opposed to the ones SHIELD had decided to brief Steve on, including but not limited to Netflix, Roombas and how to clear one’s browser history.

Fury calls on day five to inquire if Steve has decided to relocate to Manhattan. Steve barks at him about privacy and hangs up on him, resigning himself to another sweep for cameras and bugs around his building, but realises that Fury has a point and that he should probably return to his own apartment eventually, if only to throw away all the food that must have gone bad in his absence.

Besides, Steve has been walking around in borrowed Stark Industries merchandise clothing for a while now, and while everything fits, albeit a little tighter than what he’s used to, he would like the comfort that comes with wearing his own underwear again.

Tony is obviously crushed when Steve tells him as much, although he does his best to hide the disappointment behind a mask of fake indifference and a too casual, “Yeah, that’s fine.”

He doesn’t say much for the rest of the afternoon, but when Steve wraps him in a goodbye hug, Tony asks shyly, almost hesitantly, against his shoulder, “Will you come back?”

“Of course!” Steve blurts, way too quickly. “If- if you want me to, that is?”

“When?” Tony demands, sounding equally eager, his fingers tightening where they’re curled into the back of Steve’s shirt. “Soon?”

Steve ducks his head to hide his smile in Tony’s hair. “Soon,” he promises.

When soon turns out to be a mere day and a half of gloomily sitting around his own living room later, Steve has to acknowledge that he might have a slight problem.

He finds he doesn’t particularly care when he spots Tony, waving and smiling happily as he practically flies across the lobby to greet Steve.

***

“Planning another date?” comes Natasha’s smooth voice from right beside Steve, making him jump and nearly drop his phone in his haste to lock the screen and stuff it back into his pocket.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Steve insists stubbornly.

Clint drops down from some dark corner of the quinjet with a disbelievingly arched eyebrow. “Dude. Who are you trying to convince here?”

“Steve,” Natasha drawls, dry as bone, “he spontaneously took you to Masa last weekend because you happened to mention that you’ve never tried Japanese food before.”

“They have a waiting list, it’s reservations only,” Clint continues, exaggeratedly lewd grin firmly in place. “People don’t spontaneously take other people to Masa because other people have never had Japanese food before. People spontaneously take other people to Masa because they want to impress other people and get into other people’s pants.” Gesturing up and down Steve’s body, he adds, “Stark wants to tap that, bro, trust me.”

Deciding to be an adult about this whole situation, Steve turns his back on them and mutters a highly mature, “Shut up.”

Steve is neither stupid nor blind, he knows there is _something_ between him and Tony, that they have a connection, that _something_ could potentially become _more_ , though that doesn’t mean he has to act on it.

Sure, Steve spends nine out of ten night’s at Tony’s place, he is the one to console Tony after board meetings gone wrong and, on one very memorable occasion, hold and comfort him through the aftermath of a nightmare, and yes, they hug and cuddle and generally enjoy a level of intimacy that could be considered no longer platonic, and of course Steve misses all these things terribly whenever he is away on mission with Clint and Nat, but still.

Tony is the grandchild of a man who, according to Steve’s timeline, was about the same age as Steve a little over twelve months ago. And while Tony doesn’t seem all that young, given his life experience and compared to Steve’s own twenty-four years, Tony, no matter how brilliant, responsible and charming, is only eighteen years old.

Wanting _something more_ from Tony would be inappropriate at best, a conviction that’s hard to hold on to when, as they’re approaching SHIELD headquarters, Natasha nudges Steve in the side with her elbow and, smirking smugly, points down at the landing platform where Tony is waiting, impatiently bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“What are you doing here?” Steve demands once they’ve landed and are walking down the loading ramp, going for sternly disapproving but landing somewhere closer to fondly exasperated, he realises with a resigned sigh.

“They’re showing _The Invisible Man_ at that small theatre in Queens you like so much,” Tony explains excitedly, bounding up to them and throwing his arms around Steve, smiling face tucked into Steve’s neck for a few precious seconds before he pulls away again. “C’mon, go take a shower. If we hurry, we’ll have time for some Thai before the movie starts.”

Without bothering to wait, Tony grabs Steve’s hand and starts tugging him toward the main building, talking and catching Steve up on his week while Steve glares over his shoulder at Clint and Nat, who have apparently elected to ignore that they’re world class spies in favour of making kissy faces at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this chapter was almost sweet. Well, just wait for the next one. There shall be Tony angst _en masse_.


	6. Chapter VI - Tony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony; the king of angst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The summary says it all, to be honest.

##### 

Chapter VI - Tony

Tony is head over heels in love with Steve, completely and utterly gone, and it’s scaring the crap out of him.

Sure, Tony has been nursing a crush for pretty much as long as he can remember, has found comfort in the familiarity of it during long, lonely nights away at school, the constant fights with Howard, board meetings where no one took him seriously, and then the terrifying months in the cave, alternating between panic and hopelessness, but this, whatever it is that’s growing between him and Steve?

It’s something more, and Tony doesn’t have the first idea what to do with that.

So far, Tony’s experiences with non-platonic relationships come down to some drunk, clumsy make-out sessions back at MIT, with people either equally wasted or only after him for his name and fame, sometimes both, and Ty.

Tiberius Stone. Ty, with his soft smiles and lack of judgement and kind words, entering Tony’s life when he had, when Tony had been at his worst, skipping classes and never really sober anymore, had seemed like a miracle, too good to be true. Which, in hindsight, should have told Tony that something didn’t add up, was a little off, but back then, Tony’d been too grateful to simply have someone to take a closer look at the how or why.

Ty had saved him, Tony isn’t kidding himself about that. Ty had been the first person Tony willingly told about how Howard’s death, despite their arguments and the bitterness and resentment, had affected him. Ty had talked him into rehab, had visited him at the facility every weekend, without fail, had been Tony’s sole source of social interaction and human contact. Had been Tony’s first in so many ways; first friend, first real and non-intoxicated kiss, first fumbling hand job, first love.

Of course, Ty’d done what he’d done because Obie’d been paying him to do it, to keep the heir of Stark Industries in line and out of the papers, but it’s not like Tony had known that or even suspected it.

And to make it worse, Tony doesn’t know, to this day, if Ty turning up at his apartment after the truth had come out, eyes red and voice raw from crying when he’d pleaded with Tony to forgive him and give him another chance, had been a last ditch effort on Obie’s part to get responsible, dependable Tony back, or Ty being sincere for once in his life.

Tony, for the most part, tries not to dwell on any of it, but now, with his feelings for Steve definitely turning into something more serious, he can’t keep the old hurt and the insecurities from welling back up again.

No one, not a single person, has ever liked Tony just for himself, there’s always been an ulterior motive or, in Pepper and Rhodey’s cases, SI-related circumstances at play, and while is berating himself for even considering that Steve might be the same, he can’t help but have doubts. 

Hell, Tony’s still surprised every single time Steve comes back to him after leaving for a mission or staying at his own place for a while.

And, Tony needs to remember this, Steve is Captain America, the country’s one true hero, everybody’s darling, the peak of human perfection. And Tony, well, he’s Tony. Not all that impressive, compared to Steve and his achievements, his unwavering goodness.

And all that isn’t even considering the whole secret identity and Iron Man still being a sort-of-villain thing.

In short, there’s absolutely no reason for Steve to want Tony, none at all.

People whooping and cheering snap Tony out of his depressing musings to see Steve turning away from the can knockdown booth, happy grin plastered across his stupidly, unfairly handsome face and holding an enormous, bright pink teddy bear.

“What,” Tony chokes out around the laugh bubbling up his throat, but accepts the toy when Steve offers it to him, clutching it against his chest and burying his face in the scratchy fur for a moment to hide his blushing cheeks. Eventually he manages, “You’re ridiculous. How did you even do this? These games are all rigged, I bet you my entire company that those cans are glued together.”

Steve smiles that smile Tony has come to know means trouble, one side of his mouth twitching ever so faintly, his blue eyes bright and sparkling with mischief. “I threw the ball real hard.”

And sure enough, when Tony looks up, the whole glued-together stack of cans is dented and curved around the ball, pinned against the back wall of the booth while the fuming owner of the game glares daggers at Steve’s back.

“He’s cheating people,” Steve says, chin jutted out stubbornly, as if Tony’s going to object to him using his powers for the hilarious, “it ain’t right.”

“Come on, big guy,” Tony snorts, placing a hand on the small of Steve’s back to steer him toward the food court. “Let’s get something to eat, I’m starving.”

They decide on hot dogs because Steve insists it’s the food they’re supposed to eat at Coney Island, setting up at one of the tables to take some selfies with the kids that have been following them around, whispering excitedly, for the better part of an hour now while Tony braves the queue in front of one of the carts.

It’s after Tony’s rattled off his own order, when the vendor asks, “And what’ll it be for your date?” that Tony’s stomach drops, appetite and just recovered good mood gone in an instant.

“Mustard and onions,” Tony mutters dejectedly, not bothering to correct the woman’s assumptions.

He’s quiet during their meal and for the rest of their outing, noticing but ignoring Steve’s increasingly worried glances and stomping down on the guilt he feels for ruining Steve’s afternoon.

“Are you all right?” Steve asks as he’s dropping Tony off at the tower, moving to sit sideways on his bike and take Tony’s hands in his, looking up at Tony with well-meaning concern that has Tony swallow back a frustrated sob. “Is everything okay? You know you can talk to me, Tony, right? I’m here for you, I’ll listen.”

“I’m fine,” Tony says dully, “just tired. Got a headache. It’s- I’m fine.”

He can tell Steve doesn’t buy it, but Steve’s learned when to push and when to let things go over the last couple of weeks of their developing friendship, so he gives a reluctant nod and pulls Tony into a lingering hug, whispering more reassurances and kissing Tony’s temple before driving off with a promise to text once he’s back from wherever SHIELD is sending him to next.

***

Tony tears his eyes away from the bottle of Vodka when his phone starts ringing again, waiting for it to stop buzzing across the coffee table before he picks it up.

Thirteen missed calls and over thirty messages. Tony doesn’t have to check to know that they’re all from Steve.

It’s been five days of Tony ignoring Steve’s attempts to contact him, three days since Steve began turning up at the tower at least once a day only for JARVIS to inform him that Tony has initiated blackout protocol and is refusing to see anyone.

JARVIS has been snippy with him since day two, and Tony can’t say that he blames him.

Cold turkey, like ripping off a bandaid, is what Tony has decided on to get Steve out of his system, to help him move on. Only it isn’t working so well, hence the booze.

Tony hasn’t opened the bottle yet, only sat here and stared at it for the last hour, contemplating.

Losing himself in a buzz will make things easier, at least for a little while, will allow Tony a couple of hours of blissful nothingness instead of the tortuous thoughts of Steve, of his smell and his warmth and that dumb, sexy dimple in his right cheek, that refuse to go away, no matter what Tony tries.

But Tony doesn’t like himself very much when he’s drunk, and he’d sworn to himself, back after Afghanistan and Obie’s betrayal, to never do anything that makes him hate himself ever again. It’s not worth it, Tony knows that, but still. It’s tempting.

Ultimately, the decision is taken away from him when the elevator dings its arrival and the doors open to reveal Steve, eyes wild, cheeks stubbly and hair a mess, as if he’s been running his hands through it, and still so damn beautiful it hurts.

“JARVIS,” Tony whines, remembering too late the failsafe he’d programmed into the AI to alert someone in case of a relapse, “I haven’t done anything. Yet.”

_“I was merely taking the necessary precautions,”_ JARVIS says stiffly, taking a long moment before he adds the, _“Sir.”_

Why did Tony ever think it was a good idea to encourage sass and give his AI a temper?

“Tony?” Steve asks, tentative and hesitant, and the crack in his voice makes Tony break, too.

With a pained whimper, Tony lets go, dimly aware of Steve hastily crossing the room to join him on the couch, of Steve’s arms wrapping around him and gentle fingers sliding into his hair, stroking softly.

Tony’s crying into Steve’s neck, the ugly crying that involves snot and everything, but Steve keeps on holding him, rocking him, talking quietly, apologising over and over again.

“Why- why-“ Tony tries, too incoherent and sluggish to form sentences that make sense, but Steve seems to understand anyway.

“I’m sorry, Tony, I’m so sorry,” he whispers, mouth hot against Tony’s forehead. “I didn’t realise how much- I didn’t know how- you’re so young and I was afraid, still am, but I-“ he rambles, eventually pulling back enough to properly look at Tony, which is when Tony sees it.

Steve knows. Steve _knows_.

“I-“ Tony starts, heart in his throat, mind working furiously to come up with excuses, with something, _anything_ plausible, but he never gets that far.

“I’m sorry,” Steve repeats, again, reverently cradling Tony’s face in his hands, using his thumbs to brush away Tony’s tears. “I was a coward and I hurt you. And I’m so, so sorry, Tony.”

And then he’s kissing Tony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, uh, things will definitely get happy and stay that way now... *cough cough*


	7. Chapter VII - Steve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sex. And heartbreak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are two to three chapters left after this one. I'm not sure yet about the epilogue. We'll see.
> 
> Also, brace yourselves. And read the summary.

##### 

Chapter VII - Steve

Tony makes a disgruntled sound of protest in his sleep when Steve shifts under him, face scrunching up in worry and fingers curling tighter into Steve’s shirt, as if he’s afraid Steve is going to get up and leave.

Steve’s heart aches at the realisation that, considering the events of the last couple of days and Tony’s breakdown earlier, that’s probably exactly what Tony’s fearing, conscious or not.

“Ssh, hey,” Steve hushes quietly, holding Tony close against his chest and kissing the top of Tony’s head, leaving his face pressed into Tony’s hair for a moment, breathing Tony in. “It’s all right, sweetheart, I’ve got you. I’m right here, not going anywhere. Ssh.”

Mumbling incomprehensibly, Tony turns his face into Steve’s neck, hot little breaths puffing against Steve’s skin from between slightly parted, deliciously red and kiss-swollen lips, the memory of that mouth moving against his own, warm and sweet, making shivers run up and down Steve’s spine.

With a weary sigh, Steve allows his eyes to flutter closed and tips his head against the back of the couch. He hasn’t handled this whole situation with Tony all that well so far, Steve is painfully aware of that now. He’d been hiding behind the excuse of Tony’s age and his own completely misplaced guilt over moving on, telling himself he must be a passing fancy for Tony while Tony’d been convincing himself that his feelings were not only unrequited, but also wrong and possibly friendship-destroying.

Or, at least, that’s what Steve has managed to piece together from Tony’s sobbed attempts at explaining himself between frantic, almost disbelieving kisses.

Tony, underneath all that cockiness and showmanship, is incredibly shy and heartbreakingly self-conscious, and Steve, despite being fully aware of that, had left Tony to wonder and make his own, so very wrong conclusions about Steve’s affections for him.

Steve wishes Arnie or Bucky or Peggy were here. Arnie and Bucky would laugh at him, and Peggy’d probably smack him, not that he hasn’t earned it. Because he has, unlike the second chance Tony seems so willing to grant him. Steve will take it, of course, can’t not take it, but he’ll be working on actually deserving it for a long time to come.

“I’m sorry,” Steve whispers against Tony’s forehead, and then, unable to help himself, adds, “I love you. So, so much, sweetheart.”

It’s not the right time for such a confession, not with all the hurt still so fresh in Tony’s mind, not with Tony awake to hear it. Soon, Steve thinks, but not just yet.

Tony doesn’t wake when Steve carries him over to the bedroom, but he does let out a distressed whine as soon as Steve steps back from the bed, hands reaching out for Steve immediately.

Steve has never undressed faster in his life, crawling under the covers in his briefs and undershirt, and quickly drawing Tony back into the circle of his arms, where he’ll be safe from now on. Where he belongs.

***

Sometime during the night, they’ve rearranged themselves so Steve’s spooning Tony, plastered along Tony’s back with an arm slung over Tony’s waist and Tony’s legs tangled with his own.

Steve hums contentedly, nuzzling and kissing the back of Tony’s neck, his hips moving in slow, lazy rolls against Tony’s ass, rubbing his erection against-

Instantly alert once his brain has come online enough for him to realise what he’s doing, Steve freezes and holds his breath, screwing his eyes shut and counting back from ten, trying and failing rather spectacularly at willing away his arousal.

To make matters worse, Tony starts squirming unhappily when Steve tentatively begins to bring some space between them, drawing a choked-off moan out of Steve.

“Mm, Steve,” Tony breathes, pressing back against Steve. “Don’t stop. Feels nice.”

“Tony,” Steve admonishes half-heartedly, but obliges happily enough when Tony turns around for a proper kiss, cupping Tony’s face with one hand and pushing the other against the small of Tony’s back, urging Tony closer.

Tony follows his directions eagerly, mouth falling open on a gasp when their cocks brush together, two layers of fabric not doing much to dampen the friction. Steve uses the opportunity to deepen the kiss, losing himself in the sensation of lips and tongues and Tony’s sharp teeth nipping at him and teasing him.

It’s Tony who pulls back eventually, with an impatient, “Steve,” and one last swipe of his tongue over Steve’s bottom lip. His eyes are hooded, clouded with lust despite the timidity of his, “More, please.”

Steve could ask if he’s sure, if he’s ever done this before, but the first one would be undermining Tony’s choices, and the second one is a fairly obvious no. So Steve nods, drops another chaste kiss on Tony’s mouth, inquiring instead, “What do you want, sweetheart?”

Tony sucks in a surprised breath at the endearment, cheeks turning a faint pink. Steve kisses them, too.

“I- I-“ Tony stutters, then frowns at himself and gives a frustrated huff, glaring sulkily at Steve when Steve can’t hold back a fond chuckle but accepting Steve’s apologetic nose-kiss readily enough. “I want you inside me.”

Steve cock twitches at that. Tony grins smugly.

“Okay,” Steve smiles, diving in for one last kiss before gently guiding Tony to lie on his back. “If you want to stop, at any time, or if something hurts or doesn’t feel good, you have to tell me. This is supposed to be fun for both of us.”

Steve wants to do this right, so he takes his sweet time undressing Tony, cherishing every new inch of bared skin, kissing and licking and biting, Tony’s breathy keening sounds and entirely unashamed moans going straight to his cock. He opens Tony up slowly, just one finger at first, carefully moving it in and out of Tony, watching Tony’s every reaction for any discomfort or pain.

But Tony seems to be thoroughly enjoying himself, groaning out a string of, “Yes, please, yes, yes,” when Steve gives him a second finger and scissors them both, and arching right off the bed at the addition of a third, lashes damp and clinging together with unshed tears.

When Steve, after fumbling on a condom and slicking himself up with trembling fingers, finally pushes inside him, Tony is little more than a sweaty, babbling mess, clinging to Steve’s shoulders and holding onto Steve’s waist with shaky legs.

“You’re gorgeous,” Steve tells him, thrusting unhurriedly, awe-struck at the sight of Tony like this, open and trusting, kissing the wetness away from the corners of Tony’s eyes. “So good, Tony. So good for me.”

When he feels his own orgasms building, Steve wraps a hand around Tony’s straining, leaking cock, stroking in time with the movement of his hips. Tony comes with a cry of Steve’s name, clenching around Steve and tugging Steve down to crash their mouths together, Steve following him right over the edge a moment later.

Steve has enough presence of mind left not to collapse on top of Tony, pulling out as carefully as possible, rubbing soothingly at Tony’s stomach when Tony hisses. 

Tony slurs something that may or may not have been real words, making grabby hands at Steve and then a satisfied little noise when Steve curls around him, holding him close.

They’re enjoying their post-coital bliss when Steve asks, “Go on a date with me?”

“’Kay,” Tony yawns, already drifting back off to sleep, “later. Nap now.”

“Fair enough,” Steve allows, amused.

Steve’s serum-enhanced body doesn’t require nearly as much rest as the average person’s, but he’s content to have Tony dozing on his chest, just being close to him.

On the bedside table, Steve’s phone flashes with an incoming text. Slow as not to rouse Tony, Steve stretches and reaches for it, some of his good mood evaporating when he sees Fury’s name on the screen.

He needs to come clean to Tony, tell him that he knows about Iron Man before they take their relationship any further. After their date, Steve vows, when they’re high on the success of it and Tony’s as happy as Steve can make him, then Steve will tell him everything.

To Fury, Steve sends his standard, ‘Nothing to report.’

Steve knows Fury knows something’s up and that Steve’s not being entirely truthful with SHIELD but, well, Steve really doesn’t care about that.

All Steve cares about is Tony.

***

Steve never gets his chance to have his talk with Tony.

They’re strolling through Central Park before they have to make their reservations when Natasha and Clint pull up to the curb, Clint waving his phone out of the car window and arching a pointed eyebrow at Steve.

Sure enough, when Steve goes to check, he has several missed calls.

“We have your gear in the back,” Natasha informs him from behind the wheel.

“Go,” Tony says, nudging Steve toward his waiting team members. “I understand. Go safe the world.”

“Fine,” Steve grumbles reluctantly, kissing the resulting laughter off Tony’s face. “I’ll call you when I get back?”

Clint waggles a hand from Steve to Tony and back. “Or you could bring your boyfriend. We could use Iron Man on this one.”

And Steve can do nothing but watch as Tony’s face circles through a multitude of emotions, disbelief and hurt and betrayal, only to eventually settle on resignation. He takes a step towards Tony, not surprised when Tony flinches and moves away.

“I was going to tell you tonight,” Steve tries, pleads, but Tony’s beautiful, perfect mouth is twisted up into a bitter, unwelcoming smile. “Tony, please. I’m sorry. It’s not what you think. Well, it is, kind of, but- please, let me explain. Tony, I love you, _please_.”

“Sure you do, Steve,” Tony laughs, the sound completely devoid of any real humour or mirth, filled with pain and sorrow instead. “Go.”

“Tony-“

_“Go!”_ Tony screams, eyes blazing, shoving at Steve’s chest. “Go, go, go!”

Without waiting to see if Steve does, Tony turns and walks away himself.

Steve startles at the hand on his shoulder, not looking over at Natasha but thankful for the silent support nonetheless.

“We thought you’d told him weeks ago. Clint feels terrible about all of this,” she offers after a moment.

“He doesn’t have to,” Steve sighs, then louder, in the direction of the car, “This isn’t on you, Clint. It’s my own damn fault.”

***

Hope, unbidden and treacherous, flares up in Steve’s chest when Iron Man shows up halfway through the fight, only to be crushed once again as Iron Man lands in front of him after all of the AIM goons have been detained to inform him that, “I’ve packed up all your shit and sent it back to your apartment. I’ve deleted your access codes from the system and changed my number. Don’t contact me again.”

Steve is still staring at the night sky long after Tony is gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, wasn't this fun? What? No? Oh, all right.


	8. Chapter VIII - Tony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhodey is protective. So is Sam, much to Tony’s surprise. Tony and Steve talk, and Tony makes Steve an offer (he can’t refuse).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who gets a slightly longer chapter this week? That’s right, you guys get a slightly longer chapter this week!

##### 

Chapter VIII - Tony

“Tony,” Rhodey sighs from where he has appeared in Tony’s bedroom doorway, sounding resigned already even as he says, “Don’t. Don’t go. You’ve been doing so well lately, don’t do this to yourself now.”

Been doing well. Tony nearly laughs at that, but ends up just shaking his head and throwing another pair of socks into his overnight bag.

It must look that way, from Rhodey’s perspective, as if Tony’s been improving, starting to move on. Rhodey doesn’t know about the nights spent listening to Steve’s old voicemails or rereading Steve’s texts, though. Rhodey doesn’t know about Tony’s near-breakdown when, twelve days after the breakup, Tony’s sheets had stopped smelling of Steve’s aftershave, or the letter Tony has under his pillow, that he’s sleeping with every single night like the smitten, lovesick idiot he is.

Steve has gone against Tony’s demands of no contact only once, in form of that letter, about a month after their botched date. An apology and a declaration of love, an offer to explain and a promise to wait for however long it takes Tony to start forgiving him.

The attached doodle of Captain America and Iron Man fighting side by side, the question _Maybe someday?_ written above them, never fails to put a dopey smile on Tony’s face and make Tony’s heart go all fluttery.

So, for the last four months, Tony has been considering, deliberating, pining, staring at Steve’s drawing and reading Steve’s words, over and over again, and failing to come to a decision.

But things are different now, the situation has changed, and Rhodey can’t honestly expect Tony to stay put after the events of the last couple of days.

“I have to, I need to see him,” Tony mumbles quietly, glancing up to shoot Rhodey a pleading look, willing him to understand. “I need to- to make sure he’s okay, Rhodey, I need to see it, to make sure. I need to be sure.”

“Then call Fury or, hell, do your hacking thing and get into his SHIELD records or access his medical files,” Rhodey suggests somewhat desperately, stepping in close to put his hands on Tony’s shoulders. “But don’t make yourself miserable again, don’t hurt yourself because of him. He’s done enough of that for the both of you.”

“We’ve talked about you punching Captain America, Rhodey. We agreed it would be a bad idea,” Tony tries to joke, wincing when it falls completely flat. “Rhodey, please. He got shot. Multiple times. He nearly drowned, he had a Helicarrier’s worth of debris fall on him, I can’t- can’t just call and ask, I have to _see_ him, I- I-“

Strong arms wrap around Tony, drawing him in, and Tony makes a lost, broken sound in the back of his throat, buries his face in the crook of Rhodey’s neck, clinging to Rhodey’s back and whispering a small, shaky, “He told me he loved me.”

“Yeah, well,” Rhodey laughs bitterly, the gentle lips brushing over Tony’s temple a stark contrast to the anger in his voice, “of course he did, because he realised he’d fucked up-“

“Before,” Tony interrupts, pulling back enough to swipe a hand over his embarrassingly damp eyes. “The night before we, uh, you know,” he says, aimlessly waving his hand in a gesture that does probably not resemble _had sex_ at all. “I had JARVIS go over all the footage from when he was here, check if he ever contacted SHIELD while he stayed at the tower. Which he didn’t, by the way. But he did tell me that he loved me, that night, when he thought I was asleep. Why would he do that if it weren’t true?”

“Look, Tones,” Rhodey says, earnest and imploring. “For all I know, he really does. But that doesn’t excuse what he did. He lied-“

“But so did I,” Tony points out, bristling and defensive on Steve’s behalf. “I lied about Iron Man. Lie of omission, anyway.”

Rhodey’s fingers twitch where they’re still holding on to Tony. “He already knew you were Iron Man. You weren’t after him for Intel. It’s not the same.”

“Isn’t it?” Tony asks, raising a challenging eyebrow. “I didn’t know he knew about Iron Man, my intention was to keep Iron Man a secret, at least for the time being, same as it would’ve been if Steve hadn’t known. No difference. Whether he knew or not doesn’t actually matter, I still lied to him.”

“There is no chance of me convincing you not to go, is there,” Rhodey says, not even making it a proper question.

Tony just shrugs, entirely unapologetic.

“Fine, all right, have it your way,” Rhodey gives in, dropping a kiss to the top of Tony’s head before releasing him and picking up Tony’s bag, throwing it over his own shoulder. “But I’m coming with you,” he decides, holding up a finger to silence Tony’s immediate protests. “I’ll stay at the hotel. But if he so much as breathes on you wrong, I won’t hesitate to rearrange his face some more. Just so we’re clear.”

“Whatever,” Tony sniffs dismissively, but he can’t help the fond, appreciative smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, gratefully leaning into Rhodey’s side when Rhodey slings an arm around his shoulders.

***

“Oh, shit. Sorry, sorry,” Tony grimaces, patting his pockets in search of a tissue or napkin or _something_ to offer the man now covered in Tony’s lukewarm hospital coffee. “Sorry, I’m sorry, should I- I can-“

“Relax,” the man chuckles, apparently not at all put out by people running into him, literally, and tipping their beverages out over him. On the contrary, there’s actually real concern in his eyes when he gives his shirt up as a lost cause and looks back up at Tony. “You doing okay? No offense, man, but you don’t look so hot.”

Tony snorts, rubs a trembling hand over his forehead. “No. I mean, yes. No? I don’t know. Nervous, kind of? Haven’t seen him, the guy I’m here to visit, in a while. It, uh, it didn’t end well, you know? God, what am I doing, you don’t even know me, you don’t give a shit about my problems, fuck, I’m sorry, ignore me. Or stop me, please. Please, stop me.”

“He thinks your rambling’s cute, did you know that? Because I sure as fuck know after listening to him gush about it, and you, for the last two weeks straight,” the guy complains good-naturedly, then grins and holds out his hand, introducing himself as, “Sam Wilson, nice to meet you, man. Steve’s been talking about you. A lot. A _lot_ lot.”

“He has?” Tony blurts before he can stop himself, quickly pushing on by asking, “How is he?” which, Tony thinks, silently cursing himself, isn’t much better. 

Sam smiles, sad and sympathetic all at once. “He has,” he confirms. “And he’s improving, much faster than the doctors expected, but what else is new? Has been complaining about being laid up since the moment he opened his eyes, so I figure he’s going to be just fine.”

“That’s- that’s good,” Tony manages, nodding almost frantically. Chewing his bottom lip, he asks, “You know him, right? Like, you’re friends? Do you think he’d want to- would it be okay if- what would-“

“He’d love to see you. It’d probably be good for him,” Sam comes to Tony’s rescue, but then he pins Tony with an intense look that’s eerily similar to the one Rhodey’d given Tony back at the hotel. “That doesn’t mean you have to go see him, though. I get it, you need to check, and I’m happy to tell you all I know, but don’t do this if you’re doing it just for him. What he did, it was a shitty thing. A real shitty thing. And if you’re not ready to forgive that, or if you can’t do it at all, that’s okay. You owe him nothing, you gotta take care of yourself first, man, you hear me?”

Having just assumed that Sam, as Steve’s friend, would be on Steve’s side in this, Tony startles a little at how genuine Sam sounds in his concern for Tony’s wellbeing. “I want to,” Tony says, because he really, really does. “To see him. To see Steve.”

Sam watches Tony for a moment longer, assessing, then shrugs and jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “All right. He’s in room 212, just around the corner. I’ll be down in the cafeteria, getting some sandwiches. Again. Guy eats like a horse.”

“Yeah,” Tony chuckles, remembering ridiculous amounts of take-out food and Steve blushing over inhaling four cartons of fried rice in the time Tony gets through half of his, the smile he musters up for Sam when Sam walks by and claps him on the back not as fake as it would’ve been five minutes ago.

Tony can definitely see why Steve likes Sam. And he isn’t jealous, nope. It’s just the situation in general doing funny stuff to his insides, that’s all.

Steve is dozing lightly when Tony pushes open the door and slinks into his room, but his eyes snap open when Tony lowers himself into the chair next to the bed, wide and blue and hopeful, and immediately lock onto Tony’s.

They stare at each other, not speaking and, at least in Tony’s case, barely breathing for several minutes until Steve croaks out a wet, wobbly, “Hi. You came.”

And damn it all, it’s good to hear his voice, even raw and vulnerable like this. “Hi,” Tony parrots dumbly, ducking his head to hide the ill-timed, annoying blush colouring his cheeks. “Of course I came.”

Steve opens his mouth, closes it again, hesitates for a second but then says, honest and heartfelt, “I missed you.”

It’s too much, too soon. Tony swallows, licks his lips, asks, “You going after Barnes, when you get out of here? I saw the files Widow dumped online. I’m sorry about what they did to him, for all that it’s worth. That I never found anything when I was snooping through SHIELD’s servers.”

There’s a brief flash of hurt flickering across Steve’s face at Tony’s avoidance and unmistakable dismissal, but, to his credit, he’s quick to replace it with steely determination. “Not your fault,” he says, “and that’s the plan, yeah. Find him, bring him home. It’s been long enough, it’s about time.”

They lapse into silence after that, and it’s not exactly uncomfortable, but not easy like the ones they used to share, either.

Tony’s the one to break it, no good with prolonged quiet and stillness. “If you ever need a place to stay, to lay low,” he hears himself offer, and shit, that’s not what he’d planned on saying at all, Rhodey’s going to kill him for this, “you’re welcome at the tower. You, Sam, Barnes. Anyone else who’s on the run from HYDRA, the strays I know you’re going to pick up on the way. It’s secure, safe. I- I think- I-“ he stutters, clenching his fists and taking a deep, steadying breath, “I think I’d like to be friends. Or try to be, at least.”

The smile Steve directs at him is incredibly grateful, if a bit subdued. The reason for which becomes obvious with Steve’s next question, a whispered, scared, “Just friends?”

“I don’t know,” Tony says. “I don’t know, Steve. This, what I said, it’s all I can give you right now. Take it or leave it, that’s up to you.”

With that, Tony stands and, unable to resist, takes Steve’s hand to give it a gentle squeeze before hastily walking back out into the hallway where he collapses against the closest wall, eyes screwed shut and trembling all over.

Steve’s alive, he’s fine. Exhausted and pretty banged up, but going to be okay.

Tony breathes out slowly, attempting to calm his racing heart. He’s made his move, the ball’s in Steve’s court now.

All Tony can do is wait.

***

Ten weeks after Tony’s impromptu trip to D.C., Steve turns up at Tony’s doorstep with Sam and Barnes in tow, shuffling awkwardly from foot to foot while the other two hover in the background.

It’s Barnes who eventually breaks the tension with a roll of his eyes and a gruff, “This is fuckin’ ridiculous,” muttered at Steve. To Tony, he says, “You’re some kinda genius, right?” He lifts his left arm, jerkily wiggling shiny metal fingers. “Something’s not workin’ like it should be, think you can fix it while Steve’s busy being too stupid to get his shit together?”

Steve splutters indignantly, Sam does a piss poor job of biting back a laugh, and Tony decides that, no matter what might or might not happen with Steve in the future, Barnes can definitely stay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: jealous Steve being jealous, and Bucky being a little shit.


	9. Chapter IX - Steve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fucking finally! Seriously, guys, it's about time!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This wasn't supposed to take this long, I'm so sorry, everyone!

##### 

Chapter IX - Steve

Being woken by Bucky’s voice, filled with laughter and mirth and that tiny bit of familiar mischief, has Steve smiling into his pillow, his eyes still closed and his brain still caught in that warm, fuzzy state between sleep and wakefulness.

Yawning, Steve rolls onto his back and stretches his arms over his head, brushing his fingers over the picture on his nightstand like he does every morning, Tony grinning back at him with his hair messy and oil-streaked, mouth open and hands gesticulating wildly. Steve doesn’t remember what Tony’d been talking about, but the joy, the open and real happiness is obvious in the tiny crinkles around his eyes and the adorably wrinkled nose.

With a sigh, Steve pushes the bittersweet memories to the back of his mind and gets out of bed, pulling on a pair of sweats and a shirt. Finding Bucky again had been overwhelming, and Steve is thanking every deity he does and doesn’t believe in for that miracle every single day, but even getting his best friend, his brother, back can’t make up for the hole in his heart left behind by Tony.

But Steve’s trying, they both are, and while they’re not back to the easy, comfortable friendship they’d had before, while Tony is still wary and careful around Steve, and mostly avoiding situations where he’s alone with Steve, Tony isn’t pushing him away either. Which, Steve knows, is all he can hope for right now.

Rubbing a hand over his only half-open eyes, Steve pads out into the hall, making his way over to the kitchen only to stop and freeze mid-step at the sight in front of him. Tony’s sitting at the breakfast bar, tapping away at a tablet and snorting at whatever Bucky’s been saying. Bucky, who’s plastered against Tony’s back, his arms bracketing Tony and his chin on Tony’s shoulder to see what Tony’s doing.

Steve’s stomach does an unpleasant, almost painful little flip, chest feeling tight when Bucky says, clearly impressed, “That’s amazin’, man,” and bumps his cheek against Tony’s, one hand coming up to ruffle Tony’s hair, Tony smiling shyly and blushing at the praise.

“It’s nothing,” he insists, ducking his head, but Bucky’s not having any of that, making a chiding noise in the back of his throat, and using the hand he still has cupped over the back of Tony’s neck to hold him close while he presses a kiss to his temple.

“It’s not nothin’, dumbass, it’s awesome. I love it, all right?”

Steve isn’t aware of making any sound, but Bucky’s eyes snap up to him nonetheless, his expression unreadable. He kisses the side of Tony’s head again, then straightens up slowly, unhurriedly, not at all like someone being caught doing something they aren’t supposed to do. “Mornin’, sleepyhead,” he says casually, stretching and moving over to the coffee maker, pouring a cup for Tony first, then one for Steve. “You okay?”

“I-“ Steve croaks, clears his throat. “Yeah. Fine. I’m fine.”

He isn’t sure what his face is doing, but Tony’s frowning at him, lips pursed, a confused crease forming between his brows. He doesn’t say anything, though, and neither does Steve.

Bucky’s the one to break the awkward silence after another moment of watching the two of them, announcing, “Tony’s finished the first draft of my new arm. It’s a masterpiece, Stevie, a true work of art!”

“It’s not-“ Tony starts, pouting when he glances over at Bucky and spots Bucky’s teasing grin. “Asshole.”

“I’m sure it’s great, Tony,” Steve says, relieved when Tony turns to smile at him, seemingly genuine. “May I see?”

Tony nods, waving him over, and Steve swallows back the surge of bitter jealousy, reminding himself that he has no right to it, absolutely none. Tony doesn’t owe him anything, he’s free to choose who he spends him time with, and what he’s doing with them.

Besides, Tony could use some more friends, true friends who see beyond his money and fame, and if there’s one thing Steve knows for sure, it’s that Bucky’s the best kind of friend a guy could have.

Still, that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt seeing Tony and Bucky grow closer and closer over the next couple of weeks, that it doesn’t sting every single time Bucky throws an arm around Tony’s shoulders and reels him in for a hug or a kiss, that it doesn’t make Steve grit his teeth whenever Tony’s cuddled up next to Bucky instead of him during movie nights.

It’s not romantic or sexual between them, Steve is pretty sure about that, but it’s intimate in a way that Steve misses fiercely.

He misses the feel of Tony’s hair between his fingers, the softness of Tony’s cheek tucked into the crook of his neck, Tony’s weight against his side, the gentle squeeze of their linked fingers, Tony’s unmistakable scent, machine grease and cologne and something that’s just Tony.

He misses _Tony_.

And, as usual when Steve’s plagued by feelings he doesn’t know how to handle, he punches things. He’s glad to be back at the tower with its reinforced gym equipment built to withhold super soldier strength, even if using something created by Tony doesn’t exactly take his mind off Tony.

Groaning, Steve leans his forehead against the lazily swinging punching bag, taking a couple of deep, steadying breaths, trying to calm his reeling mind and thrumming body. He’s on edge, has been ever since that morning he walked in on Tony and Bucky huddled together in the kitchen, and things haven’t really improved since then, what with Bucky and Tony’s developing friendship and Steve left to stand by and watch.

No more, Steve decides. Tony’s come to him, back in the hospital, has reached out to Steve with his offer of a sanctuary. It’s in Steve’s hands now, he realises, has been ever since that day, Steve has just been to guilt-ridden to notice that Tony’s been waiting for him to make a move all along.

The hopeful looks, the constant hovering at the edge of Steve’s periphery, trying to catch Steve’s attention without crowding Steve, and then, eventually, the avoidance, coming to the wrong conclusion that Steve must not be interested anymore, looking for comfort in Bucky instead.

“Damn it,” Steve sighs, banging his head against the bag again. “Idiot. _Idiot_.”

_“Quite,”_ JARVIS pipes up, but he sounds almost fond as he opens the elevator doors for Steve, automatically taking him up to Tony’s penthouse while Steve unwraps his hands, flexing his fingers and nervously poking at his swollen knuckles.

Steve’s not surprised to hear Bucky’s voice coming from Tony’s living room, but he does stop to listen at the note of amused exasperation in it, telling himself he’s not eavesdropping because, technically, JARVIS is supposed to announce him. It’s not Steve’s fault if he doesn’t.

“-is crazy about you, don’t be stupid.”

“Sure,” Tony says, all biting sarcasm in an attempt to hide the vulnerability Steve can still hear underneath. “That’s why he’s been going out of his way to work things out between us- oh, wait! He hasn’t been. Like, at all. Funny that, huh?”

Bucky clucks his tongue, Steve peering around the corner to see him leaning over the back of the couch and rolling his eyes at Tony, who’s lying on it with his face buried in a cushion. “Steve’s shit at this sorta thing, always has been,” he says, the traitor. “Doesn’t mean he doesn’t care.”

Tony hums, sceptical.

“Oh, come on,” Bucky huffs, slappingTony’s ass and smirking down at him when Tony turns around to scowl up at him. “You tellin’ me you didn’t see how jealous he gets when I put my hands on you? Really? Here I thought you were s’pposed to be a genius an’ all.”

Steve gapes. And glowers. That little shit!

“In fact,” Bucky continues, holding out a hand to pull Tony up to his feet, “I can practically feel him glarin’ daggers at me right now.” Tony startles, gaze immediately looking onto Steve. “How red’s his face? Is he doing the kicked puppy thing? Or-“

“Bucky,” Steve barks, unable to really stay angry when Bucky turns to face him, grinning from ear to ear, eyebrows arched challengingly. “Jerk.”

“Punk,” Bucky shoots back without pause, smacking a wet, lingering kiss to Tony’s cheek before grabbing his jacket from the arm of the couch, throwing it over his shoulder as he continues over to the elevator. “My work here is done. Have fun, use protection.”

Laughing, Steve reaches out to punch Bucky’s arm when he walks by, then changes his mind and draws him in for a hug, whispering a quiet, “Thank you,” into his hair.

“Yeah, yeah,” Bucky chuckles, squirming out of Steve’s arms. “Get your cooties away from me, Rogers. Go, talk to the love of your life, your pining is fuckin’ annoying.”

“Where are you going?” Steve asks, taking in Bucky's gelled hair and fancy shirt for the first time.

Bucky smiles, heavy-lidded and happy. “Got a date. I’ll tell Sam you said hi.”

“Sam- wait, what?” Steve calls after him, but Bucky just laughs and waves over his shoulder, not looking back.

“Love of your life?” comes the quiet question, making Steve blink whirl around.

Tony’s got his arms wrapped around himself, head tilted to the side, his eyes wide and uncertain yet full of tentative hope, chewing on his dangerously wobbling lower lip.

“Tony,” Steve says hoarsely, closing the distance between them in three long strides, Tony meeting him halfway, crashing into Steve full force. “Tony, you- I didn’t- I love you. I love you, and I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, sweetheart, I love you, I lo-“

Tony cuts him off by pressing their mouths together, standing on tiptoes to wind his arms around Steve’s neck, melting into Steve when Steve curls his own arms around his waist in return, holding on tightly.

“I love you,” Steve says again, breath hitching, but Tony’s right there with him, hiccupping wetly and choking out a, “You too, I love you, too,” before kissing him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bucky Barnes, professional little shit. 
> 
> Just one more chapter to go, and it's all fluff. Well, mostly. Probably.


	10. Chapter X - Tony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, folks. We’re done. Thanks to everyone who stuck around through the ups and downs, I love every single one of you.
> 
> And now; the grand finale!

****

##### Chapter X - Tony

Tony is leaning back against the wall, slowly sipping his drink, and enjoying the short moment of respite from schmoozing and ass-kissing, watching his friends instead.

Clint is doing shots with some of the baby agents over at the bar, and it’s not the first round either, going by the looks of it. Coulson seems to be on damage control duty, deftly plucking a sloshing glass out of Clint’s slack finger and downing it himself, then smiling that eerily serene smile of his when Clint notices and turns to frown at him, clearly confused.

Natasha has vanished, but the last time Tony saw her, she’d been quietly talking to Bruce, glaring anyone even thinking about approaching and asking insensitive, offensive questions about the Hulk into quickly changing their minds.

Bucky and Sam are dancing, Sam complaining loudly but laughing happily as a smugly grinning Bucky twirls him around the dance floor, much to the other guests’ obvious enjoyment. And Steve, Tony realises with an amused little chuckle, has been cornered by a group of veterans and senior agents led by Stan, who’s already way past tipsy and not at all shy about yelling, “Excelsior!” at the top of his lungs while holding onto a flustered Captain America to stay upright.

All in all, though, Tony thinks, they’re doing pretty good showing the world that what’s left of SHIELD doesn’t have anything to hide, superheroes are people too, and, oh yes, the Winter Soldier is totally on our side now. There’s an official name for the whole operation, one Tony hasn’t bothered to learn. The important thing is that the public gets to see a more personal, approachable side of the people who’ve failed to notice the Nazi cult invading their own ranks, and are at least partly responsible for the destruction of central Washington D.C. because they let their Helicarriers drop on it.

Initially, Tony had refused to give his name and resources for the effort of repairing SHIELD’s reputation, still stung by Fury going behind his back and sending Steve to spy on him. Fury had stopped him mid-rant by offering him an official position on the Avengers, knowing full well Tony wouldn’t be able to refuse.

And so the last couple of weeks have been filled to the brink with press conferences, clean-up, charity work, and one gala and ball after the other, each one more boring than the last. But, on the bright side, Tony’s finally been properly introduced to the team, minus Thor who’s presumably still on Asgard, but including _the_ Doctor Bruce Banner.

Yeah, Tony’s life is pretty amazing right now; he’s been promoted from villain to Avenger, has made more new friends in the span of a month than in the last eighteen years combined, and is regularly making out with Steve Rogers aka Captain America, _his boyfriend_.

Things are great. Awesome. Yup. Totally awesome. All of them. All the things. Totally and absolutely awesome.

Taking another sip of his Virgin Colada, and snorting a little at the name, Tony lets his gaze wander back over to where Steve’s now surrounded by a bunch of genuinely excited fans, signing autographs and taking selfies, completely in his element.

It’s been nearly three months since Tony and Steve have gotten back together, twelve weeks of honeymoon phase bliss. Well, mostly.

Tony wants to have sex with Steve, of course he does, he’s very nearly bursting with want every time Steve touches him or just smiles at him the right way, but. _But_. Rationally, Tony knows that sex with Steve isn’t automatically going to ruin their relationship again, that doesn’t even make sense, but the last time they’d slept together, it had been the beginning of one hell of a disaster.

And for a while there -- before Tony had gone through the security recordings and found Steve’s declaration of love, before all of SHIELD’s files had been dumped online and shown Tony that Steve hadn’t revealed anything to his employers, against direct orders -- Tony had lived with the assumption that Steve had been after him for information and a tumble in the sheets, nothing more.

Which had hurt. A lot. It’s stupid, to be hung up over it, but it had been the first time for Tony, and it had meant something to him. And while Tony knows, is almost one-hundred percent sure now that Steve loves him back, hears Steve saying it and has Steve showing it every single day, some tiny part of him still can’t shake the last of the doubts.

They sleep curled up together, Steve spooned against Tony’s back, every night, be it at the tower, Steve’s rarely used apartment in Brooklyn, or the new SHIELD headquarters. They kiss, hug, cuddle, spend hours necking lazily, grinding and rubbing against each other, but the moment Tony feels himself getting close to the edge he panics. Shoves Steve away, snaps at him, yells and cries and flees to his workshop, locking himself away until Steve, endlessly patient, coaxes him back out with gentle words and soft touches, and they start the cycle all over again.

Tony’s sick of it. He loves Steve, and Steve loves him back. He wants Steve to fuck his brains out, and Steve would definitely oblige. There shouldn’t be a problem, there doesn’t need to be a problem, but when has logic ever stood a chance against emotion?

Which is probably why Tony does what he does next, waiting for the perfect moment to slip out onto the terrace unnoticed, fishing out his phone as he walks and dialling a number he’d sworn to himself he’d never call again.

It rings for a long time before the person on the other end picks up with a confused, _“Hello?”_

“How much of it was real?” Tony asks without preamble. “You wanted to tell me, I didn’t want to hear it, now I do. So. Tell me. How much of it was real?”

 _“Tony,”_ Ty breathes shakily, swallowing hard. He doesn’t insult Tony by asking what he’s talking about, though, doesn’t mention that it’s been two years, just gets right to the point. _“You were a job, then you weren’t anymore. I can’t pinpoint the exact moment I fell in love with you, but I did. Fall for you. Love you.”_

Tony doesn’t say anything, clutches his phone in one hand and the railing with the other.

 _“Hey, Bambi, what’s this about?”_ Ty asks softly, the old nickname making Tony’s breath hitch embarrassingly. Ty winces apologetically. _“Sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. Guess I have a lot to say sorry for, huh?”_

“That’s not why I called,” Tony sniffles, shaking his head even though Ty can’t see.

 _“Doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to hear it. Tony, what I did to you-“_ Ty starts, then cuts himself off, taking a deep, steadying breath. _“I’m sorry, for all the good it does now. I-“_

“Ty, don’t-“

 _“No, Tony, listen to me.”_ Ty’s voice is somehow insistent and pleading all at once. _“All the shit that happened between us? It was on me, not you. I know I told you differently, but you did nothing wrong, none of it was your fault. Please, Tony. If you want to believe just one thing I say, believe that it wasn’t your fault. It was mine.”_

Tony wipes at his cheeks with trembling fingers, screwing his eyes shut. He’d known this, only not really. Brain versus heart. Logic versus emotion, it always comes back to that. “Fuck. Fuck, I have to go, I shouldn’t have called, damn it-“

 _“Trust yourself,”_ Ty interrupts, and Tony thinks he might be crying, too. _“Take it from the guy who made sure you wouldn’t. Trust yourself, Tony. You’re smart, you’ll figure it out, whatever it is.”_

Before Tony has the chance to answer, he sees Steve step out through the door, murmuring a quick goodbye and hanging up, uselessly rubbing at his damp, itchy eyes.

Steve looks worried as he approaches, brow creased and mouth slightly downturned. “Hey,” he says, huffing when Tony crashes into him but immediately wrapping his arms around Tony, holding him close. “You okay, sweetheart?”

“Yeah,” Tony croaks, a sudden laugh, happy and giddy, bubbling up his throat. “Yes,” he says, more confident, pushing his nose into Steve’s neck, breathing him in. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Steve says without hesitation, pressing a kiss to the top of Tony’s head, raising his eyebrows in question when Tony pulls back, an undoubtedly ridiculous grin on his face.

“I know,” Tony whispers, pushing up on his toes to brush their mouths together, nudging his nose against Steve’s. “You love me.”

Steve is beginning to look a little concerned, probably because Tony’s still laughing and also crying a little bit, so Tony kisses him again, deep and lingering. “Take me home,” he says against Steve’s lips, linking their fingers together and squeezing softly.

Tony still doesn’t know when he’ll take that next step with Steve, but he thinks he might just trust himself to recognise when he’s ready.

**Author's Note:**

> Go check out my other [work](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Potrix/works) or come over and say hi on [tumblr](http://potrix-the-queerschlaeger.tumblr.com/).


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